Reparo
by Da More Fishy
Summary: HP x YGO crossover. Bakura/Ryou goes to Hogwarts. Possibly a pairing between them later on, but might just be friendship/understanding - we'll see how it goes. Set in the 5th book, and after the end of YGO. Not sure what genre it is as of yet, will find out as it goes.


**I wrote this first chapter at 4.30am one night, so I thought I should clean it up and redo it (and extend it, it was very short). Here's the fixed version.**

**Haven't written a Yu-Gi-Oh or a Harry Potter fanfic, but have read many of the crossovers between those two. In fact, I am in love with that specific genre of fanfiction. So I am providing more. There you go.**

**Yu-Gi-Oh and Harry Potter belong to their respective owners, I'm just borrowing their creations for the sake of this glorious genre.**

**Set 5th book, and after the end of YGO.**

**Yami Bakura = Bakura and Ryou = light verion, host, landlord, whatever, you know.**

**Will stick to my first language here and not even attempt Japanese.**

**Bakura was not in a good place.**

****000

After his rather disastrous failure of an attempt… no, endeavour to defeat the foolish Pharaoh and reap his revenge, he'd gone into hiding. He'd been relying on that one final plan to pull through, since he had no other options or backup plans. He was back to square one. He was worse off than square one, when he'd first started his pursuit he at least had the element of surprise. He was into the negatives on the scale of having the upper hand, a place he'd never been before.

One thing that had gone his way was that he and the Pharaoh were still around. If the Pharaoh's Host hadn't been such a weakling and lost the "final" duel – neither of them would still be here. The defeat meant that Yugi still needed the Pharaoh, which meant he still needed the Millennium Puzzle. It took the last ounce of Bakura's will for the Millennium Ring to get back to his Host and all he could do then was run. Run far away, so the Pharaoh couldn't stop him while he was down and without a plan. Run far away and recuperate.

He returned to his Host's homeland, since neither Japan, nor Egypt were places he could recover in peace. Since nothing he had done thus far had worked, it meant that his current powers and knowledge were not enough. So as soon as he'd arrived in England he had set off to searching for something, anything that could help him finally beat the Pharaoh.

Dozens of visits to libraries and a many unsuccessful attempts to look online for answers, he'd resorted to walking the streets and hoping the Ring would pick up on anything. Every once and a while the Ring would sense something, but every time it ended in the same result - either the signal would cut out or he'd find himself in a dead end.

He was starting to become very apathetic towards his search, the passion he'd had while battling the Pharaoh had all gone. A lot of the time he wondered if he should just give up. This morning was no different, as he walked down a bustling road, filled with busy people who all had a purpose there. Travelling to work, taking their kids to school, jogging – they all had reason to be here. They all had motivation. Bakura glared at them. He'd long since given up putting on an innocent, kind face so he could blend in, there was no point.

Suddenly, he felt a faint tug that came from under his shirt. He decided to ignore it; it would just turn out like every other time. There was another tug, more forceful this time. Bakura pulled the Ring out and the tiny points flung to the right, directing to a small building. It was an art gallery.

He quirked an eyebrow, "Really?" he asked the Ring. It continued to point.

Sighing, he went inside; there wasn't much in there – a few large paintings and some wooden sculptures. Bakura quickly tucked the ring away as an old man, who was admiring a very yellow painting, turned and smiled at him. Catching himself before he sneered back, he relaxed his face and smiled pleasantly in return.

"This one is really something," said the man, as he adjusted his spectacles and pointed at the yellow work, "I've been looking at it for," he paused and checked his pocket watch, "Well over an hour now and every time I look I see new things in it."

Bakura studied the man, not only did he have a pocket watch but the rest of his attire was out of place. ...Were those robes?

"What do you think of it?"

Bakura walked over and gave it a once over. He'd never taken much interest in art, he'd never really had time – having been pre-occupied with revenge and all – but from the few artworks he'd seen, this one didn't seem interesting.

"I like that bit," he said, pointing at an area that was darker than the rest.

The man's snowy white beard bobbed as he nodded, "Yes, it contrasts the rest of it nicely and if you turn your head to the left and squint, it almost looks like a..."

Bakura frowned expression as the man tilted his head and squinted. Why had the Ring brought him here?

"It sort of looks a bit like a tortoise," concluded the man, "Can you see it?"

As Bakura went closer and tilted his head to mimic the man's, the Ring started to go crazy. It flew out and pointed at him compellingly. Bakura, out of practice, couldn't think of a subtle lie quick enough and ended up just stuffing the Ring away.

"That is an interesting charm you have there. Would you mind if-"

"Family heirloom," interrupted Bakura, the Ring must've had reason to point at this man. But even if he could help Bakura get the power he needed, he didn't need to know about the Ring.

"It seems..." the man trailed off, "Why was it pointing at me?"

"It's a sort of detector," replied Bakura, hoping this made it sound like some kind of electronic device, "It can sense out things."

"And what were you looking for with it?"

Bakura was unsure of how to respond, so he just stared blankly back at the man.

The man smiled, as if he'd worked something out and said, "I think I can help you find what you're looking for."

000

Harry and his friends were packed and at the train station, ready for another year at Hogwarts. Harry was looking forward to it, even with all the imminent dangers and hazards since Voldermort was back.

'They never could just have a normal school year could they?' thought Harry, as he helped Ron lift his suitcase onto the train.

Ron groaned as his he saw his mother running back over to them, "Didn't she get enough time to say goodbye already?"

Harry was about to laugh, but saw the flustered expression on Molly's face.

"Wot's up Mum?"

"Ron dear, sorry to hold you up, but I completely forgot to tell Harry about the new student!" said Molly, her face was quite flushed from the run over.

"New student?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, Dumbledore sent an owl about him this morning. Apparently he found him by chance!" said Molly, "The boy had never even heard of Hogwarts-"

"Muggleborns aren't anything new Mum," interrupted Ron, "Wot's the big deal about this one?"

"He's 17!" exclaimed Molly, "17 and never been properly taught magic! Dumbledore said he was already quite skilled though, even without training."

"Did he not get a letter on his eleventh birthday like everyone else?" asked Harry.

"No, he was in Japan then, though it's strange that the school there never sent him one," said Molly, "Dumbledore has decided to put him in your year anyway, said that he should be able to manage that, and the age gap isn't too big."

"Does Dumbledore want us to look out for him," asked Hermione, wondering if she could tutor him.

"Yes, Dumbledore would really appreciate you three doing that for him," the conductor came along as she said this, ushering the teens to hurry up and find seats.

"Where is he?" asked Harry, picking up his suitcase.

"On the train already, he's hard to miss," she then blew a kiss at Ron, "Have a good year, kids!"

The three shuffled with their cases down the train's corridor and Ron asked, "How are we supposed to find this guy? There're hundreds of compartments and he could be in anyone of them!"

"Well we'll just have to look-" started Harry as he was cut off by another voice.

"Just have to what, Potter?"

"Shut up, Malfoy" said Ron instantly, that sentence had become second nature to him, not even needing to turn to see Malfoy and his cronies to say this.

"Did you know that there's a new student transferring into our year?" said Malfoy, ignoring Ron, "When my Father hears about this-"

"How do you know there's a new student?" interrupted Harry.

Malfoy smirked and pointed, "We saw him in a compartment down there by himself, he-"

As soon as Harry heard this, he went in the direction Malfoy was pointing. They didn't need to stand and listen to him now that they knew where to go.

"Hey! Where do you think you're-"

Ignoring Malfoy was very satisfying thought Harry, maybe he should do that more often. He grinned as he heard the blonde exclaim loudly at their disregard for him.

Inside the compartment Malfoy had directed them to, was the new student, instantly the three teens could see why Molly had said they couldn't miss him. His long white hair was definitely eye-catching.

Harry knocked and slid open the door, "Hello, I'm Harry Potter," he held out his hand to shake the other teen's, "Dumbledore said that we should come find you."

Cautiously the pale haired teen extended his hand to meet Harry's, "Dumbledore didn't say he was sending anyone to find me. I don't need looking after."

Harry came into the compartment, stored his case away and ushered his friends to in, "This is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger," he said, and the two smiled and greeted the new student.

"Didn't catch your name, mate," said Ron, who also went for a handshake.

"Oh, it's... Ryou Bakura. Just call me Bakura though," the pause before the teen said his name was unsettling, like he had to think about it before responding. Shouldn't he know his own name?

"Are you excited to be going to Hogwarts?" asked Hermione as she sat down opposite Bakura, "Oh! Have you read 'Hogwarts: A history?' It's really very interesting it-"

"Hermione he doesn't want to hear about that," said Ron, rolling his eyes in Bakura's direction, "That's dull."

Hermione pouted, "It might seem dull to someone like you, Ronald, but Bakura might find it fascinating!"

"I haven't had a chance to read anything yet," said Bakura, he'd seemed to relaxed more than when they'd first walked in, "There's so many books already I have to read to catch up with everyone else. Was there anything important in that book that I need to know?"

Hermione's eyes shone, eager to share information, but Harry cut her off before she could say anything, "Really, all I think you need to know now is about the houses. Did Dumbledore say anything to you about them?"

"No," said Bakura, "Is the school divided up into houses?"

"Yes," said Hermione quickly, she was not missing out on this chance, "There are 4 of them, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

"Slytherin is bad. Gryffindor is good." added Ron.

"That is only a generalisation, Ron!"

"Who do you know from Slytherin that's nice then?" Ron asked.

"Well..."

"Exactly."

"I think I met some people from Slytherin before," said Bakura, "One of them was very pompous and arrogant. He looked annoying."

Harry nodded, "Argh, that's Malfoy, he's the worst."

Bakura smiled, and Harry knew that this new student was good. Anyone who disliked Malfoy, was a friend of his.

000

Bakura found the train ride extremely dull, being forced to engage in banter with these mortals. Chatting about people he had neither heard of, nor cared about. He zoned out, smiling and nodding, acting as his Host would in this situation. It was better this way; it meant that they wouldn't suspect that he had ulterior motives for attending this school.

Dumbledore had been easy to deceive, being so eager for Bakura to come and attend his school. After that chance encounter at the art gallery, his drive was back. He finally had a direction, a lead into obtaining more power.

Finally they had reached the school, which seemed to be located within a castle. Had that girl said something about that? He wasn't paying attention.

"Are you nervous at being sorted, Bakura?" asked Hermione, "I was in my first year."

"Not really?" said Bakura, "What is there to be nervous about?"

"Nothing, mate," said Ron, "It just can be a bit intimidating I guess. Being in front of everyone... felling like you look ridiculous..." he trailed off, as if he was remembering his experience, "I wouldn't worry about it though. Just let the hat do its thing."

Bakura wasn't worried; he didn't really care how he appeared to others. He was curious on what a hat had to do with this situation though.

"Hat?"

"The sorting hat looks into your mind and decides what house to put you in," said Harry, "Looks at what house would be best for you."

"The hat wanted to put you in Slytherin though, Harry," said Ron.

Harry made a face, "Yeah, but I told it not to," he shuddered, "Ugh, I don't even want to think about that. Makes me think about what would've happened if I was in Slytherin."

There was an awkward pause as the four of them thought about that. Though Bakura's thoughts were more centred on working out how to cheat at the sorting, since, even though he wasn't overly fond of these three, it was probably best to stick with them since Dumbledore specifically asked them to watch out for him. It might have been because Dumbledore had assumed from how Bakura had acted around him that he'd be in the same house as them. And anything to get out of looking suspicious was important.

Someone who Bakura assumed must be a teacher was at the doors as they entered the castle and Harry said, "Oh there's Professor McGonagall, she's probably here to get you."

Bakura went over to her and was ushered to a room where there were many small students, first years, thought Bakura. He wondered if he'd get to be sorted before or after them and if Dumbledore would make a big deal about him or not. He hoped that he wouldn't, it would just make it harder to get the information he needed in peace. Too much attention.

He continued to zone out in his thoughts till, McGonagall tapped him on the shoulder, she'd come back from the first year sorting to get him. As she escorted him in, Dumbledore announced to the school that he was a transfer student, starting in the fifth year. Bakura was glad he didn't go into more detail. It was hard to tell what that old man would do, since at the art gallery he'd rambled for ages about the school.

McGonagall motioned for Bakura to take a seat on the small stool, and placed the sorting hat on his head. The hat shook and made Bakura feel uncomfortable. The feeling was mutual; the hat didn't seem to be too pleased to be inside Bakura's mind and he could sense that it was going to make its decision quickly so it could leave.

"Where are you putting me?" he asked.

"S-Sl-Slytherin," gurgled the hat, worried that its wearer would be unhappy with its decision. It wasn't too fond of what it had seen inside his head and hoped it wouldn't be subjected to anything from it.

"No. Not that one. I need to be in the one that Harry is in," said Bakura.

"I cannot put you in Gryffindor," the hat sounded firmer than it had before, "I would never place someone like you into that house."

Bakura thought this over, since the hat used what it found in his mind to make the decision then...

Yes, that was the answer.

"Okay, hat," Bakura smirked.

000

Ryou's eyes fluttered open. He looked out at the crowded hall in front of him; surely this must be some kind of strange dream? He'd just been watching Yugi and the Pharaoh duel. He faintly remembered... had Yugi lost? And what were these strange clothes he was wearing, and what was that weight on his head?

He blinked as what he realised was a hat yelled: "Gryffindor!"

And Ryou passed out.


End file.
